Roar
by clarabranson
Summary: Clara Branson helps an extremely ill Severus Snape to get well when an upper respiratory infection soaks his lungs. Unfortunately she catches the terrible infection as well and Severus is forced to use his potions expertise to get her well also. Severus SnapexOC oneshot OOC Severus Snape


Severus turned around, batting his hand down on his alarm clock. '_Now stop this infernal noise immediately_,' he silently ordered the device, noticing that he was developing a tremendous headache. '_Apparently some of these dunderheads managed to give me a cold_,' he groaned as he let out a series of sneezes. Forcing his eyes to open, he closed them again straight away, realising, '_The light is too bright today_.'

He quickly summoned a Pepperup potion from his lab, for once appreciating that his senses were numb due to the congestion, so that he didn't have to smell or taste the disgusting potion. '_The steam coming out of my ears is bad enough_,' he mused in annoyance as he lay down for another ten minutes, hoping in vain that the potion would give his achy body some relief.

Knowing that he still had to check on his little snakes and teach his classes, even if he felt horrible, he dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom for a long, hot shower, noticing soon that didn't help either. '_Thank God it's Friday_,' he thought as he heavily let himself sink on the chair behind the teacher's desk in the Potions classroom, only barely aware of the fact that he had missed to head to the Great Hall for breakfast and to do his all-morning check-up on his Slytherins

His headache intensified tenfold when the Gryffindor first-year twins Alex and Finn Barney, who always reminded him of the seventh-year dunderhead Neville Longbottom due to their incompetency, entered his classroom, taking seats in the first row. Making the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years pair up to brew an easy basic potion, he remained seated with a pile of parchments in front of him, efficiently pretending to grade tests while he let his eyes wander around the classroom every once in a while. As much as he tried to suppress his coughs and sneezes, he couldn't prevent himself from having a coughing fit when the fumes of the twins' exploding potion penetrated his windpipe.

"You dunderheads," he hissed, not trusting his cracking voice enough to shout at the boys. "Detention tonight with Mr. Filch."

"Yes sir," a reply penetrated his foggy mind like from far away, while Severus tried to get his breathing in grip that had begun to become slightly irregular, unaware of the fact that the Gryffindor girls were throwing him concerned looks.

Severus sighed in relief when the class was over, knowing he had a free period until lunchtime. '_In the afternoon, I only have the seventh-years; that won't be too bad_,' he mused as he lay down on the sofa in his living room, waving his wand at the fireplace as a violent shiver shook his tall body. He grudgingly summoned another Pepperup potion as well as a fever reducer and his alarm clock, setting it five minutes prior to the beginning of the afternoon class.

Gryffindor seventh-year and Head girl Clara Branson entered the Potions classroom together with her friends Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger and immediately glanced at the teacher's table with a mixture of curiosity and concern on her face. '_Oh well, the first-years didn't have to tell me anything; it's obvious that Snape is ill_,' she mused as she took a seat in the front row, taking in the professor's pale face as well as the dark rings around his eyes in concern. The parts of his cheeks near to his ears were deeply flushed, and beads of sweat were covering his forehead.

The teacher pointed his wand at the board, making a recipe appear, before he said simply, "Brew."

Clara forced herself to take her eyes from the teacher to get her ingredients and begin to brew the potion. '_He is breathing through his mouth, and his breathing seems irregular_,' she mused as she absentmindedly stirred her potion counter clockwise, until Harry, who was sitting next to her, gave her a small kick.

"Only twenty-three and a half times, Clara; that should be enough."

"Oh right, thank you," she sighed, turning her eyes back to the potion, before a harsh cough pulled her attention back to the clearly suffering Potions Master. Getting worried as she noticed a series of small shivers run through the visible part of his body, Clara pulled her wand out of her robe pocket, unobtrusively pointing it towards Snape's head, frowning at the orange number emerging from the tip of her wand that displayed his elevated temperature. '_That's too high for a cold; probably some kind of respiratory infection_,' she realised, feeling very grateful towards Madam Pomfrey, who had been giving her private Healing classes since the beginning of her sixth year.

Resolving to corner the professor at the end of the class, she returned her concentration on the potion, glad that her best friend had taken over and was stirring both potions simultaneously.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered gratefully, forcing herself to ignore the teacher, who sat at his desk pretending to read something without ever turning a page, for the moment.

Severus couldn't help feeling miserable. '_It's just a simple cold, no reason to let myself go like that_,' he mused, feeling very annoyed at himself and at the two doses of Pepperup that hadn't helped much. '_Maybe it's something else, but it doesn't matter, because it's the weekend anyway. I'll just ask one of the first-year snakes to excuse me with Minerva or Albus because of some urgent brewing, and then I can rest during the whole weekend_.'

By the time class was over, he dismissed the students and slowly pulled himself up to a standing position, noticing horrified that the room begin to spin. Fiercely holding on to the table, he tried to keep himself upright in spite of feeling as if he were on a roller coaster, when all of a sudden a soft voice penetrated his foggy mind.

"Let me help you, Professor," it said, and Severus faintly recognized the Gryffindor know-it-all hovering in front of him.

"Help me?" he croaked in incomprehension.

"You're ill, Professor, and you seem to be too dizzy to walk on your own. Let me help you back to your quarters, so you can lie down."

"I'm fine," he growled, before he let out a series of harsh coughs.

"You sound as fine as you look, sir, and if I might remind you, Madam Pomfrey is giving me Healing classes. She has taught me a series of diagnostic spells," Clara replied, uncertain how she was able to take the courage to talk to the professor in such a way. Noticing that he seemed to feel too unwell to care anymore, she gently gripped his left arm, instructing him to lean onto her.

"Thank you," Severus croaked when they made it to his living room.

"No problem," she replied, gently helping him to lie down on the sofa. "Professor, would you give me the permission to cast a simple diagnostic spell on you, or would you prefer if I called Madam Pomfrey?" she queried, hesitantly.

"Don't force me to take points from your House," Severus snarled, "I'm fine."

"Yes, I know. So, may I cast the spell, just to be sure that you're really fine?" Clara queried, inwardly gasping at her own boldness.

"If you must," Severus sighed, "and then leave me in peace. I'm tired, and I want to rest."

Glad that she had been able to force the permission out of the man, Clara carefully waved her wand in the wand movement Poppy had shown her so thoroughly, before she once more checked his temperature. "Professor, did you take any potions today?" she asked softly as she conjured a cold towel to wipe the teacher's hot face.

"Pepperup and fever reducer," Severus whispered tiredly.

"Well, you need something stronger. You have a respiratory infect, and you're running a moderate temperature in spite of the potion you took earlier. Do you have something in stock that I could fetch for you?"

Severus couldn't help being impressed by his student's proficiency and grudgingly instructed her which potions she should get and where to find them in his personal lab.

Clara hesitantly made her way into the professor's most private room. '_Well, except for his bedroom I suppose_,' she thought as she grabbed a few phials of the potions, which she found exactly at the described positions. Remembering that Poppy had taught her to mix a sip of a sleeping draught into the fever reducer in case she had to do with a very stubborn patient, she followed the old Mediwitch's advice, before she returned to the living room to help the professor sit up and take his potions.

Severus spent the whole weekend sleeping on the sofa, which Clara had transfigured into a comfortable bed. He only woke up when his potions wore off every few hours, wearily noticing that the Head girl was still at his side, made him drink cold water and soup and tried to make him feel better, until the next dose of potions took effect and pulled him into sleep again.

When he woke up on Monday morning, feeling much better, he noticed that his student was fast asleep on the chair next to his bed turned sofa. '_She must have looked after me the whole weekend_,' he mused in disbelief, knowing that there were much more interesting things for a seventh-year to do than to care for her sick Potions professor. He cleared his throat, causing Clara to jerk awake.

"How are you feeling, sir?" she queried, lazily reaching for her wand.

"Much better, Miss Branson, but..." he began when a harsh cough shook his body.

"You are in fact much better, sir," Clara informed him, "and I don't have the illusion I could prevent you from teaching your classes today. However, you still need to rest as much as you can, and please continue taking your potions every four hours until at least tomorrow evening."

"Thank you very much for your help," Severus replied gratefully, before the girl shut him up by pressing a phial against his lips.

"You're welcome, sir," she replied softly and hurriedly left the room to get ready for class.

_Three days later..._

Severus felt much better. Due to his student's firm and proficient help, he had managed to get rid of his infection faster than ever. '_All right; I have lots of work to do_,' he decided as he scrambled out of his bed on Thursday morning, only to let out a small cry and let himself sink back on his bed as a sharp pain flared in his legs.

'_What the f... is wrong now?_' he thought in disbelief as he made another attempt to stand on his feet. '_That hurts_.'

He summoned a pain relieving potion, noticing in desperation that it only helped so much, and dragged himself straight into the classroom, the upset voices of Minerva and Poppy still in his head, who had scolded him for missing all the meals during the weekend. He dragged himself during the day, realising that the pain in his legs didn't go away but only intensified during the day and spread over to his other limbs. '_Nevertheless, I have to attend dinner, if I don't want Minerva and Poppy come to fetch me_,' he thought in defeat as he painfully hobbled through the shortcut passage to the Great Hall, trying to keep all signs of pain out of his face.

However, when he woke up in the morning, the pain had increased, and even if he didn't move he felt a throbbing all over his body. '_Even my head hurts_,' he thought in annoyance as he brought his right hand to his forehead, noticing it was drenched with sweat. '_Thank God it's Friday again_,' he sighed as he limped into the classroom, dropping on his seat, before he opened the classroom door with a flick of his wand.

'_What has he done now?_' Clara mused in exasperation as she threw the teacher an assessing glance, realising that he stayed at his desk like the week before. '_No half-way healthy Professor Snape spends the Potions class seated at his desk instead of breathing into his students' necks_,' she thought. '_He looks as if he had a fever and was in pain_.'

Unfortunately, due to her own health problems resulting from the infection she had caught from the professor and tried to hide it in order not to miss any classes, her concentration span was too small to observe the teacher in concern and concentrate on brewing her potion at the same time, and only her friend's fast reaction saved her from getting the exploding potion into her face.

"Are you all right, Clara?" Harry asked in concern as he pushed her down onto the floor to force her away from the potion.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry; thank you, Harry," Clara stammered as she anxiously turned her eyes back to the professor.

A small flash of anger spread over the teacher's face, which quickly changed into a painful expression as he jumped onto his feet, casting the Evanesco spell on her cauldron. Fortunately, the class was over five minutes later.

In a faint attempt to make her voice sound as smooth as possible, Clara approached the teacher's table after waiting a moment to observe the man pull himself onto his feet with gritted teeth. "Professor, I'm sorry for not paying enough attention," she told him, automatically reaching for the man's arm to steady him. '_He doesn't even object_,' she noticed in growing concern as the teacher heavily leaned onto her arm and didn't protest when she gently led him into his living room.

"What happened?" she queried worriedly, automatically turning into Healer's mode as she pulled her wand and waved it over the man.

"I have no idea. Yesterday, I woke up and my whole body was sore," Severus confessed, feeling too bad to care what was happening.

"Hmmm, I'm not too sure," Clara said thoughtfully, casting a few more diagnostic spells, "but I think it's an after-effect of the infection you had caught earlier. As far as I know this happens very seldom, but it has probably affected your magic, which make all the parts of your body, in which your magic runs, which is nearly everywhere, hurt; you're also running a temperature, probably by exerting yourself. I'm sorry, Professor, but this time I really have to call Madam Pomfrey," Clara said softly, gently placing a cold towel on the teacher's brow.

"No," Severus groaned, but it was only half-heartedly, and he closed his eyes in relief at the cold sensation on his forehead, unaware that the girl turned to the fireplace to call the Mediwitch.

"Yes, it's an infection caused inflammation of your magic, and you worsened your condition by moving around as usual in spite of the pain," Poppy's stern voice pulled Severus out of his stupor. "You are going to stay in bed for at least three days. Fifty points to Gryffindor for your expert diagnosis and for alerting me to the problem, Miss Branson."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Clara replied softly, groaning inwardly as she felt herself blush at the unexpected praise.

"You're welcome, and now let me check on you, Miss Branson; I'm afraid I'm going to take both of you with me to the hospital wing."

'_Oh well, at least it's the weekend, and I'll be in good company_,' Clara thought a few minutes later, inwardly grinning at Snape's annoyed expression as she relaxed in the bed next to the professor's, glad that Madam Pomfrey was there to look after the most stubborn patient she could imagine. '_All I need now is sleep_,' she mused, already succumbing to the sleeping draught Poppy had mixed into her potions.

Clara and Severus were both released from the hospital wing on Monday evening, accompanied by a lot of fussing and further instructions from the concerned Mediwitch. Clara didn't even bother to listen; instead her thoughts turned to her best friends, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, wondering if they would be in their common room. She was only pulled out of her reverie when Severus opened the door and pulled her out of the hospital wing. They exchanged a glance and let out a simultaneous sigh of relief as they stepped into the corridor.

"Thank you, Miss Branson," Severus said smirking as they separated in the entrance hall.

"Thank you, Professor, for teaching me Wizard's Chess," Clara chuckled, remembering how they had used each time they knew Poppy would be away for a while to play.

"You're welcome," the professor replied and strode away.

Clara made her way into the Gryffindor common room, where her House mates were gathered, doing homework, joking, laughing and shouting. '_Oh no, is that loud in here_,' she thought and quickly retired to her own room, feeling very happy to notice that Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed her into the Head girl's room.

"I'm glad you're back, Clara," Ron said sincerely, closing the door behind him. "Hogwarts is boring without you, and we were all really lost in class today."

"I got your assignments, and here are my notes from today, if you want to copy them," Harry explained.

"Oh, that's so very nice of you, Harry, thank you so much," Clara replied gratefully, quickly copying the notes with a flick of her wand.

"Shall we look over them together?" Harry offered, throwing Clara a concerned look as she seemed very absent.

"All right, oh no!" Clara gasped, glancing at her wrist watch. "No, it's nearly curfew. I have to go and do my rounds. I also have to apologize to Malfoy for not being there to help him during the weekend." With that she swiftly left her room through the other door that directly led into the corridor and hurried towards the Head boy's room, which was near the entrance to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons.

It was already midnight when she tiredly returned from her rounds and let herself sink on her bed in exhaustion. '_Oh no, I still have to do my homework_,' she remembered, turning her time table in her head, realising that she had to do Transfiguration and Charms for the following day. The thought, '_Thank God Poppy cancelled my Healing lesson for tomorrow_,' crossed her mind as she was drifting off to sleep a few hours later.

During the next two days, Clara remained extremely busy, especially as she had been absent during the weekend, which was the time for her to catch up on homework, and because she had to take Malfoy's rounds in the evening, since he had covered hers over the last days. '_I don't know why I'm so tired_,' she mused as she went to bed on Wednesday evening.

When she woke up on Thursday morning, she couldn't open her eyes. '_Oh no, what's wrong now?_' she mused in absolute annoyance, realising that her eyelids felt extremely heavy. Finally forcing her eyes open, she closed them instantly, noticing that the light was much too bright and hurt her eyes. She lay back for a few minutes, trying to listen into her body to find out what was causing her eyes' irritation, only to notice that the symptoms of the infection she had caught earlier were back full force. '_Oh no, I can't have a relapse now; I'm much too busy to be sick_,' he thought, terrified, as she brought both index fingers up to her temples in a faint attempt to rub the headache away that had just begun to pester her.

A sudden knock at the door made her sit up hurriedly. Through the fog surrounding her head she could make out sixth-year prefect Ginny Weasley's form telling her, "What are you still doing in bed? You have to hurry. McGonagall is in the common room asking for you."

'_Oh no_,' Clara groaned inwardly and quickly scrambled out of bed, magically exchanging her clothes while she waited for a bout of dizziness to pass, before she hurried to the common room.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she apologized, realising that her voice was threatening to fail as she threw her Head of House a questioning look.

"Are you feeling all right, Miss Branson?" McGonagall queried in apparent concern, eyeing her critically.

"Yes, I'm sorry; I forgot to set my alarm clock," she hurried to explain as she urgently tried to set up the most pleasant expression she could muster.

"Very well; Professor Snape asked me to speak with you. He will be giving the first-years a special introductory lesson about Healing potions tonight, and he needs an assistant. Would you be willing to help out?"

"Of course," Clara replied wearily, feeling very honoured that the professor had chosen her for the task. '_I just hope I'll make it through the day and nobody notices that I'm a bit under the weather_,' she thought as McGonagall dismissed her and ordered everyone to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. '_I'm not hungry anyway_,' she decided and returned to her room to stand in front of the mirror and try to apply a concealment charm to her face. She had to make several attempts, and only when she was on the verge of casting a blasting spell at the mirror in anger, she realised that she had finally managed to hide the dark rings around her eyes and her slightly flushed cheeks. Even her eyes didn't look glazed over anymore.

'_Finally_,' she thought in annoyance, confirming with a glance at her wrist watch that it was time to head to Herbology class. She slowly walked down the stairs to the entrance hall, enjoying the quiet in the corridors, and smiled as she noticed Harry, Hermione, and Ron waiting for her in front of the entrance doors.

"Why did you miss breakfast?" Ron queried in concern, giving her a sharp look.

"Ah, I wasn't feeling so well this morning," she admitted in a small voice, not wanting to lie to her friends, "but I'm fine," she added quickly in order to avoid any further fussing.

"Very well then, let's head to Herbology," Harry replied, smirking at her antics as he noticed in relief that she looked all right.

Clara dragged herself through the day, noticing that she had indeed caught the infection again. '_I wonder if Pomfrey released me too early_,' she wondered, recalling how she had begged the Mediwitch to let her leave on Monday. By the time classes were over, she felt horrible and decided to skip dinner in favour of a nap until she had to leave for the Potions lesson with the first-years.

'_I wish I could just remain in bed and sleep_,' she thought as she let out a croak at the attempt to shout at her alarm clock, "Shut up!" Realising that the annoying thing just wouldn't quieten, she turned around to face the noisy Star Trek figure on her night table and reached out to give it a slap on the head, sighing in relief at the following silence. '_Nevertheless, I have to get up_.' With that, she slowly sat up and got onto her feet, holding on to the night table to steady herself. '_I have to take a hot shower; it's absolutely freezing tonight_,' she mused, not realising that it was the beginning of May, and the Gryffindor tower couldn't be that cold.

Half an hour later, she stumbled into the Potions classroom, showered, dressed and still freezing. "Sorry for my tardiness," she apologized quickly, causing the professor to throw her a sharp look at the sound of her voice.

Severus rolled his eyes and pulled his wand. '_No, please don't_,' Clara thought, panicking without even being aware of the fact why she felt the urge to run away quickly. "Stupid child," the professor muttered as he quickly cast a drying charm at her hair, causing the girl to sigh in relief.

"Thank you, Professor," she mumbled, hoping that the concealment charm would cover her blushing as well. She half-heartedly listened as the teacher explained to the first-years about magical and non-magical ingredients that were mostly used for Healing potions.

Finally, Snape let the first-years brew one of the basic Healing potions, instructing them that they should ask right away if they had questions. "From the next school year onwards, we will brew Healing potions in our normal class, and this is the most basic potion, which is used for many different Healing potions," he explained.

The students had many questions, and Clara was busy helping the professor giving the younger students the explanations they needed, knowing from her own experience that Snape would expect the students to be able to flawlessly brew the potion in their second year.

When Snape finally dismissed the students, her voice was completely gone, and she wanted nothing more than to rest her achy head. However, before she could reach the door, the professor was at her side, gripping her arm and turning her around to face him. Clara opened her mouth to question what he was doing, when she felt his cold, slender hand on her forehead. Unable to pull back quickly enough, she unconsciously leaned into the cool touch, startled when the teacher told her, "You're ill. Go and see Madam Pomfrey. I will give you a pass."

"I don't need one, and I'm fine," Clara croaked in confusion at the professor's voice that was laced with what she could understand as concern.

"Oh right, you're the Head girl. Nevertheless, you will go to the hospital wing straight away," the professor said firmly as he towered over her with an intimidating expression on his face.

Feeling dismissed, Clara slowly made her way out of the dungeons, not even willing to think about going to the hospital wing and knowing that she still had forty minutes, before she had to begin her rounds.

She sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on her homework, jumping startled when a knock at her door penetrated her foggy mind. '_Oh no, I just hope Snape didn't tell McGonagall that I'm sick_,' she groaned inwardly as she hesitantly opened the door just a little bit, sighing in relief when she recognized Harry, Hermione and Ron standing in front of the door.

"Hey Clara, how are you feeling?" Ron queried, stepping closer.

"I'm fine," she replied, tiredly leaning against the doorframe.

"I believe that immediately," Harry threw in as he reached out and laid a cool hand on her forehead. "You sound awful, and you're burning up. Did you place a concealment charm on yourself, or why do you look as healthy as the Giant Squid on a rainy day?"

"Yes," Clara muttered and averted her eyes to the floor to hide her embarrassment.

"All right then, cancel the Charm and go to bed," Harry said firmly.

"I can't. My rounds begin in ten minutes."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron let out a simultaneous sigh, rolling their eyes. "Have you never ever heard that the Head girl and Head boy can delegate their chores to the seventh-year prefects if necessary? Illness will surely be considered as a valid excuse to assign your rounds to a prefect," Ron said firmly.

Clara tiredly looked up, noticing the concern in her friends' expressions. "Are you sure, Ron?" she whispered. "Won't you mind?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Harry, help her into bed, and I'm going to do her rounds," Ron decided and hurried away.

"Come on, Clara." Harry gently forced her back into her room, waited patiently while she was in the bathroom getting ready for bed and carefully tucked her in. "You're at least as bad as Snape," he stated, realising how ill she looked without the concealment charm on her face.

"Am not," she whispered back sleepily.

"You are," he confirmed and conjured a towel, which he charmed to remain ice-cold, before he gently adjusted it to her forehead, noticing that she was already drifting off to sleep. Shaking his head at his friend's behaviour, he silently left the room.

Friday morning passed in a blur. '_Maybe I should really go to see Madam Pomfrey_,' Clara mused as she tiredly rested her achy head on Harry' shoulder during their History of Magic class. Her head felt as if it was going to explode, she had problems breathing, and she knew she had to be running at least a moderate temperature to feel as dizzy and lightheaded as she did. '_On the other hand, I need the weekend to study for the NEWTs. They're going to begin in ten days. I can't afford spending another weekend at the hospital wing_,' she thought.

The Transfiguration class was a disaster. Normally, she was very good at Transfiguration, but on this Friday, Clara couldn't manage to transfigure anything correctly.

"It's all right; we all have our bad days," Harry whispered, gently squeezing her hot hand under the table to divert her attention from Professor McGonagall's cross face.

"Is everything all right, Miss Branson?" the teacher asked briskly as she looked at the two seventh-years. "If so, you need to try a bit harder."

Not trusting her voice, Clara merely nodded, before she once more waved her wand at the green plush cat in front of her that was supposed to be a pink rabbit.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry supplied helpfully and unobtrusively waved his wand at Clara's cat.

"You're a life-saver," Clara breathed on their way down to the Great Hall. "I thought McGonagall was going to transfigure me into a mouse and eat me alive."

"Calm down, Clara," Ron said gently, calmingly rubbing circles into her back to help her recover from her coughing fit. "You know as well as we do that our Head of House isn't that bad, and if you had told her that you were ill..."

Fortunately, they had just arrived at the Great Hall, and Clara was glad to be able to sit down between her three best friends. She didn't feel hungry at all; however, due to her friends' most annoying fussing she found herself sitting in front of a small bowl of fruits yoghurt, of which she forced down a few spoonfuls.

"Miss Branson, please accompany me for a moment," a strict voice suddenly penetrated the mist around her mind as the Potions Master swept behind the Gryffindor table with dramatically billowing robes.

Clara threw her friends a confused glance but knew better than not to obey to the Slytherin Head of House and quietly followed the man down to the dungeons and into his office.

"As Head girl you should be aware of the fact how communication works at Hogwarts," the teacher began, quirking an eyebrow.

'_What the fuck..._' Clara questioningly looked at the professor, having no idea what the man was talking about.

"Well, you ought to know that every night after curfew Madam Pomfrey reports to the four Heads of House about the events of the day. To my surprise, there was no information concerning your visit to the hospital wing yesterday evening," Severus continued, causing Clara to inwardly groan as she recalled the events of the previous evening.

"I'm sorry, I..." she whispered, frantically searching her aching head for a good excuse, shivering violently as the teacher once more felt her forehead and continued in a much sterner voice.

"Well, we'll speak about your punishment for your disobedience after your recovery. If you're not willing to benefit from Madam Pomfrey's expertise, you'll have to deal with me. Follow me."

Feeling too weak and ill to protest, Clara wearily trailed behind the professor into his living room and complied when he ordered her to sit down on the sofa.

"Unfortunately, I didn't have the advantage of Madam Pomfrey's Healing classes," the professor explained as he eased a thermometer under her tongue and sat next to her to feel her pulse.

Clara closed her eyes in relief as she leaned into the soft cushions. '_This sofa is so comfy_,' she thought, unable to fight the urge to sleep anymore.

"I'm sorry, but you must not sleep yet," Severus' soft voice pulled her back to awareness. He removed the annoying stick from her lips, shaking his head, and lit the tip of his wand to look into her mouth, ears and eyes. "I don't have your Healing expertise of course; however, I assume that you did not completely recover from the infection you had last week. Did you, by chance, listen to Madam Pomfrey and take your potions as long as she told you? You certainly didn't come to me to obtain any."

"I don't think she told..." Clara began to whisper, only to interrupt herself, suddenly recalling that she hadn't listened to the Mediwitch's instructions at all. "I'm sorry, I don't remember her saying anything."

"You mean you were so relieved to be released that you didn't bother listening?" Severus smirked. "Believe me; I only know that feeling all too well. Nevertheless, she did, and you should have better listened to her or at least to me when I sent you to see her last night instead of struggling through your classes, aggravating your condition even more."

Clara cringed under the professor's stern look as he continued, "You're going to remain here and rest. Or if you prefer I take you to the hospital wing?" The professor raised an eyebrow.

"Not the hospital wing please," Clara whispered, throwing the teacher a confused look from half-open glassy eyes. '_His eyes are so dark and warm_,' she mused, suddenly feeling very excited.

"Very well then, drink your potions and rest," Severus instructed her firmly. "I have to teach a class. I'll be back in an hour." He made her drink two potions, before he gently helped her to lie down, covering her with a warm blanket. "Sleep." With that he left the room through the connecting door to his office.

'_I should go to Pomfrey and not make Snape look after me_,' Clara mused. However, a small voice at the back of her mind blurted out, '_He is so gentle, and I love to be in his company. His soft silky voice is so calming, and his warm eyes are adorable._' Before she could summon the energy to get up from the comfortable bed the professor had transfigured from his sofa, she already drifted off into a much needed Healing sleep. A small smile was playing on her lips, provoked by the knowledge that she was in good hands with the professor and that she wanted nothing more than to remain here, letting herself be looked after by the professor.


End file.
